Chemists
by Denkinasu
Summary: The Sole Survivor finds herself in Goodneighbor, and for once since leaving Vault 111, she feels at home. Making her living as a chem dealer, her charismatic nature draws people in, and she ends up finding one of the best partners to scour the Commonwealth with. Sole Survivor, Hancock, & Cait Please R&R :)
1. Goodneighbor

Charismatic in nature, always well-dressed, and one who rarely skirmished, Stone found herself stepping underneath the neon lights outside of the entrance to Goodneighbor. The lights casted a rosy glow over her pale skin, and it was the only thing showing her the shoddy entrance and the Neighborhood Watch standing idly.

The men didn't even so much as raise their tommy guns, but their eyebrows, at the pale woman in the tuxedo. It was late, around midnight when she had strolled up to the gate. They said nothing, but they were curious at her appearance. Stone was splotched with old and new bloodstains, grime, and dust.

Her amber eyes were showed her exhaustion and irritation from her sorry state, but she pushed onward.

She had been to Scollay Square a few times prior to the bombs, but she didn't recognize most of the dilapidated buildings now. She stood at the entrance for a second, her mind taking in the sorry state of the once beautiful area.

She was jogged from her thoughts when a man cleared his throat and said to her in a graveled voice, "Hold up there. This your first time in Goodneighbor?"

Stone was wary of the man, but nodded, in irate fashion, at him. She eyed him; a grizzled bald man in road leathers. He wore a smug mask, "You can't go walking around here without insurance."

Her lips quivered as she tried to keep a stoic face and very calmly she said, "You better back off, or you'll be the one needing insurance."

Stone was cross, her entire body aching from her travels.

The man stepped back, surprised by the aggressive words and the venomous tone. His mask of seriousness dropped instantaneously, "Whoa, hey all right. Let's just say your insurance is paid up for now, okay?"

They eyed each other; lithe, dapper Stone holding her ground against the man.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," a low, smooth voice halted the two. A ghoul emerged from the alley near the Old State House, dressed in a red frock and wearing a tricorn hat. His appearance stirred something familiar in Stone; there was something soothing to his presence. Behind him stood a stalwart woman, an air of danger surrounding her.

"Someone steps through the gates the first time, they're a guest. Can't have you bothering people again with that extortion crap, Finn." His voice was gravely, yet smooth, and he looked over Stone as well.

Finn's face curled into a snarl, "What do you care? She ain't one of us," he was bristling at the ghoul who kept his cool.

Perceptive as she was, Stone detected the menace in the newcomer's stance and the bellicosity in his suave voice.

"No love for your mayor, Finn? I said _let it go_."

The newcomer simply watched them, but Stone knew better though; she knew something was going to happen, something bad.

"You're soft Hancock, you keep letting outsiders walk all over us," he paused to glare at the girl and then back to him, "One day there'll be a new mayor."

A cunning smile crept across Hancock's face, "Come on man, this is me we're talking about," his demeanor changed and he reached out a hand warmly to Finn who cautiously leaned towards him. In a flash, a knife was lunged several times into Finn's gut, "Why'd you go and have to say that?"

Her eyes wide in shock, Stone watched the man keel over and bleed out. The Commonwealth's violence had become jaded to her, but the act left her wordless. Insightful as she was, she was left in surprise at the rapid turn of events. Stone instinctively took a step back from Hancock, though he was genuinely grinning at her.

"Now, I know you had ole' Finn handled back there," he paused and looked her over, a small gleam in his dark eyes that made Stone shuffled uneasily, "but a mayor's gotta make a point sometimes. You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…better than he is," she nudged the corpse with her foot, a nervous chuckle escaping her. She felt uneasy in his gaze and avoided his black eyes.

"Good, now don't let this little incident taint your view of our little community. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome."

"Yeah, I feel ya," a grin crossed her tired face and she met his gaze.

"Good. You stay cool, and you'll be part of the neighborhood," Hancock was smiling, "so long as you remember who's in charge." It was a quiet reminder, slightly laced with seriousness.

He sauntered away to the Old State House, and Stone stood there for a second, watching the red frock sway.

Stone found herself in Daisy's Discounts, the old ghoul looking at her with attentive eyes, laced with disbelief.

"I used to go there," Stone smiled, thinking back to the long hours consumed in the public library, "I was a lawyer, so I spent a lot of hours there. Just reading and studying. Fat lot of good it does me today!"

Daisy laughed, nodding in agreement, "I bet we could swap a lot of stories."

Stone's amber eyes glittered; she was always happy to find someone who had lived post-war. She always found herself talking to old ghouls the longest, and for a while she forgot _when_ she was, and she was always grateful for that.

"Over a few pints," Stone gestured to her bloodied tuxedo, "but for now, I need to find a crash pad."

"Hotel Rexford, it's rather cheap there for a night."

Her items pawned and pockets lined with caps, she sauntered to the hotel until she came across a roadblock of people. All of them were staring at the mayor; the ghoul with a wild glimmer in his eyes as he rallied his people; she had caught the crescendo of the speech.

He was bent over the railing, overlooking the people of Goodneighbor, "The Institute! They're the real enemy! Not the Raiders, not the Super Mutants, not even those tools over in Diamond City!"

Someone shot out something about McDonough, and Hancock glazed over it, "Now, I want everyone to keep the Institute in mind. When someone starts acting funny. When people are doing things they don't normally do. When family starts pushing you away for no reason,"

Stone felt her blood boiling at his words, her tiredness evaporating as she listened intently.

"We all know who's behind that kind of shit. And the only way to stop it, is to stick together. They can't control us if we're not afraid!" He paused, "Now, who's scared of the Institute?"

"Not us!" Stone suddenly lost her voice amongst the others, her warm eyes glimmering with energy.

"And which town in the Commonwealth should the Institute not fuck with?"

"Goodneigbor!"

"And who's in charge of Goodneighbor?"

"Hancock!"

The denizens, Stone, and the charismatic ghoul all chanted, "Of the people, for the people!"

The Sole Survivor slept fitfully, as normal, in the Hotel Rexford. Visions of the mayor, the night's crowd, the multiple people she had met… all of it became muddied in her dreams. She sat on the edge of the bed, groggy but unable to sleep. She checked the Pip-Boy, at least she had gotten two hours of sleep.

Good enough.

She seldom dreamt of Shaun or Nate anymore, and an empty pang resonated in her chest as she thought about them emotionlessly. She twisted her wedding ring, now on her right hand*, mindlessly. She missed Shaun dearly, but the overwhelming vastness and difference of the Commonwealth had turned her priorities upside down.

She couldn't sleep because of Hancock. The mayor's speech reignited her desire to shine light on the new age boogeyman.

She threw on a light and much cleaner outfit and headed out to the Third Rail.

It was about 2AM, and she noticed how crisp the air was. The street's residents huddled against the sides of the buildings for warmth or for some privacy while they shot up, and Stone remembered where she was.

She was extremely happy that she knew some basic chemistry to make those feel-good chems, and she could sell them for higher than normal prices since she was so compelling.

In the Third Rail, her amber eyes drifted over the singer's beautiful frame as her voice filled the old metro station. The atmosphere made her feel comfortable almost immediately.

Stone observed all the drunken citizens still awake, and for the first time since college and before Shaun was born, she felt young and vibrant. She felt at home for the first time since scouring the Commonwealth.

But those people weren't who she was looking for. Her eyes scanned the bar for that red frock, and saw the ghoul silhouetted against the bar's light. He sat next to a red head, her frame intimidating, even though she and Hancock bantered together lightly.

Hancock pulled an inhaler of jet out of his pocket while the woman lit a cigarette, and while Stone watched them from afar, she mentally composed what to say. She dug into her pocket for some grape mentats, and popped one in her mouth.

 _Time to say thank you_ , she thought as a slick smile crept across her face.


	2. The New Lackey

"Well hello there, Mister Mayor," Stone crooned alluringly as she sauntered up to the mayor and his bodyguard. She tipped her trilby hat at him and unabashedly took a seat next to him at the bar. The grape mentats were her favorite, and she relished that they made her so brazen.

She was sitting _inches_ away from the man that brutally stabbed one of his citizens for challenging him, and all the while she was wearing a slick smile. In later sobriety she would chastise herself for doing something so dangerous, but she didn't care about that right now.

Hancock nudged the woman next to him, a grin on his face, "Look who it is," his beady eyes were sparkling under the neon and low lights, "Glad to see you can actually back up your words in this town." He chuckled and motioned for the modified Mr. Handy, and then looked at Stone expectantly, "Consider it a welcoming present…"

"Stone," she stuck her hand out and a small shudder went through her as the two shook hands formally.

She looked over at the Mr. Handy, "Gwinnett lager, if you have any." She returned her attention to Hancock and the bodyguard, who watched her stoically while wearing a scowl.

"I wanted to say th-" he waved her hand in front of her and lit a cigarette as White Chapel Charlie placed down the lager on the sticky bar.

"Now don't go saying that sister," Stone grinned at him, taking a few slugs of the beer and listening intently, "I already told ya, Goodneighbor is of the people and for the people."

"That was a very compelling speech, Mayor," she looked him over, wondering how she could befriend him. He seemed like a beneficial connection in the Commonwealth, and she was becoming a bit antsy at the slough of ideas in her head.

"I'm looking for work," she stated matter-of-factly, rolling the bottlecap between her fingers, blinking her amber eyes slowly and watching him think.

She figured if she could get established as a merc in Goodneighbor, she could slowly make friends with the mayor. It was a major bonus that most of the denizens were drug addicts and her chem creations were her favorite pastime.

The sweet taste of the grape mentats lingered in her mouth and her eyes sparkled with jovialness as she saw the mayor pull out a familiar red canister.

"Well," he said between an inhale, "if you feel up to it, I need someone to do a little recon at the Pickman Gallery."

After a bit of haggling, Stone was able to get Hancock to agree to 500 caps for the job, all the while he was grinning at her charisma.

"Consider it done," she winked at him as she pulled out a tin of mentats, offering one for the mayor, "We can celebrate properly as soon as I get back."

As much as she was drawn to be back in her little home away from home, Stone was as equally compelled to travel around the dilapidated ruins of Boston some more before visiting the eerie Pickman Gallery and reporting to Mayor Hancock.

Instead, she would wander aimlessly during the day to new places, sticking close to the buildings and always scanning her surroundings.

She briefly thought about returning to Sanctuary, and even though she was the General of the Minutemen, she was slacking on her jobs, lackadaisically saving settlements here and there. She just didn't want to go home and meet Preston's dissatisfied gaze _again_.

She had sent a good bulk of the Minutemen to the Castle to be under Ronnie's guidance once they had taken it back, but she had put a lot of time and sweat into rebuilding the pre-war houses that were still standing in Sanctuary, and because of this, she planned on enjoying her time there.

It had taken her and Sturges months to replace the houses' roofs, but she was grateful the walls were still in a decent enough condition to not need much repair, save for some lead lining needed for the occasional rad storm and patchwork. The housing lots they tore down became shabby shacks where they held everything from parties to town meetings and to housing the guard's lookout on the top most floor.

Stone was extremely proud of those buildings made from the ground up; the rest of the houses she had remodeled and built them to be as guest houses for caravans and homes. Sanctuary was slowly starting to look more and more like a little city with the power pylons running to each house, the gardens that were found in organized little plots growing every food available, and the rubbish from the war cleaned up off of the street.

The town lived up to its name.

She was brought back to reality when she stubbed the toe of her boot on a twisted piece of metal that was sent skittering down the road in loud, clanking noises. She peered at the tall buildings around her, and instantly she took a breath and could smell the familiar copper scent of blood.

Spiked poles, hanging cages, and torsos hanging from giant steel hooks…she slapped her thigh for walking right into Raider territory. She hadn't been seen, and she dropped into a crouch, slipping into the shadows. Instead, she noticed that this territory was different.

Stone noticed a security gate and plywood on the fences with the large letters scribbled on them: COMBAT ZONE. She noticed Raiders up on the stairwells near the gate, and they had their guns slung over their shoulders in a laissez-faire manner.

Checking her outfit to note that it was sufficient for battle and that she had enough ammunition for her assault rifle, she palmed some homemade bufftats and put a canister of jet in a readily available pocket. She had a capped needle of med-x and psychobuff in opposing pockets.

With her chems in reach, Stone bravely stepped out of hiding and walked up to the gate, wearing her best scowl and letting her eyes reflect despicable emotions in an attempt to fit in.

It didn't work.


	3. Fight Club

The Raiders on the catwalk above the entrance to the Combat Zone smirked evilly at her, both pointing their pipe pistols down and at Stone's spike armor. She could feel the bufftats starting to seep throughout her body, her muscles becoming tense and her stance now terse.

"Looksee here," the dark skinned Raider chimed, her voice laced with early victory over the outsider.

Her friend looked down at her in an examining fashion, and his grimy face contorted into a sneer, "You? You don't look like any member of the Combat Zone I've ever seen,"

Stone took quick glances around the disheveled and skeletal buildings, and noticed a large building behind the entrance.

"I'm a new member," she snapped back, "What? No one told you?"

The two glanced at each other before bursting out in laughter; they saw right through her façade. Though they were laughing and it stung her pride, Stone took the chance and drew her assault rifle.

She dispatched the women who was keeled over in peals of laughter, bits and matter of her brain spraying the building behind her. Some blood landed on her friend's face and he flinched. As the gunshot rung out and echoed through the city, her friend stared wide-eyed at the events that so quickly had unfurled, his body frozen to its post and his face dappled in blood.

Stone was grinning madly, her body a cesspool of chems and her mind working in a deranged, yet logical, means of advancement.

She steadied the rifle on the terrified Raider, "Come on then, hands up," she barked out, and watched him slowly comply as he was jarred from his freeze. "Now, I told you I was a new member," she said sweetly, though her eyes were still twinkling with malice.

"There's no weapons allowed in the Combat Zone!" he choked out, visibly shaking.

"Oh," Stone faked a look of remorse, "Then you'll have to forgive me for this," another bullet sprung forth, piercing the Raider's head and he tumbled backwards and off of the catwalk.

She looted the bodies, happily finding ammunition and enough caps to situate her for a while.

Slipping into hiding again, she took out a modified combat knife from her duffle bag and a syringe of psychojet, putting it next to the other battle-use chem. She grabbed a canister of jet, loaded her assault rifle, and placed her 10mm on her hip next to the knife. She tucked her bag into a secure spot, and with everything in tow, she walked confidently up to the double doors of the Combat Zone.

-  
The former Orpheum Theatre brought a bizarre whirlwind of memories to Stone; she and Nate had visited the theatre to see concerts and extravagant operas pre-war. She realized the heady feeling was in part from the chem cocktail, but the memories hung around her like ghosts. She shook her head violently as she peered into the theatre from the foyer. There were two Raiders in cages behind the cashier's counter with RULE BREAKERS scrawled above them.

On one side of the grand double doors stood the signs that listed the rules of the fight club:

 **Tommy's Rule #1**

 _No fighting outside of the cage_

 **Tommy's Rule #2**

 _No caps? No entry!_

 **Tommy's Rule #3**

 _No begging! No loitering!_

In the center of the building was a huge cage, one woman swinging viciously at a Raider.

Stone ignored the captured Raiders, who only sneered at her from behind the bars, and tried to listen to the PA system instead. The chaos inside of the building was too raucous; shrieks and bellows and stomping accompanied the sound of bare-knuckled punches being thrown by the lithe woman.

She must've been their prize fighter.

Looking around the Combat Zone, Stone spotted the Raiders perched about the cage. Some were above her, and she decided to pick them off with the pistol. The lower level Raiders could be attacked with stealth. Altogether there were ten of them, equally split on the lower level and on the upper level.

Taking a hit of jet, she took the opportunity of them being enthralled to move in like a liquid shadow, slicing the throats of some. She kept them from squealing out in surprise by covering their mouths and ignoring their feeble bites at her hand and the way they tried to claw at her.

She had taken out four of them when she heard her presence being announced over the intercom, and all remaining eyes were on her. She took cover quickly, administering the psychojet hastily and sloppily, puncturing her vein in the process.

She had to ignore the aching pain for now, and she looked over the countertop in a small, shambled-together shack at the advancing people. Everything moved sluggishly and her vision became tinted crimson.

The five Raiders that were rushing down the ramps in slow motion wasted five bullets, and the last Raider standing was running out of the cage from the woman. She was already beaten down, and Stone almost felt it merciful to shoot her.

The only two remaining people were in the cage, the woman panting from her fight and the announcer looking on at the carnage desperately as Stone approached them slowly. The chems were wearing off and she could feel the building bruise in the bend of her elbow.

The ghoul announcer looked around, "Is it over?" he looked about, "Well, that could've gone worse."

The woman laughed, "I dunno Tommy, seemed like quite the performance from where I was standin'," her voice was laced with an Irish drawl, and Stone took an immediate liking to her.

"Are you fucking high or something?" he growled at her, "Why am I asking? Of course you are."

She bristled at him, "Still won the fights, didn't I?"

"You're strung out and getting sloppy is what you are," he pointed out with contempt, "But I suppose you ain't got to worry about that now." The ghoul looked around at all the dead Raiders and eyed a fatigued Stone. "This one just put us out of business. I'm not sure if I should kiss you or have my Little Bird here feed you your own entrails."

"I told you to quit calling me that!"

Stone cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, I just figured you guys might be in trouble."

"Trouble? Nah, but keeping those idiots entertained _was_ what kept the lights on, not exactly sure what we're gonna do now."

"To hell with 'em! More will come. Just need a quick breather and I'll be ready to go," the 'Little Bird' snapped at Tommy who glared at her.

"A breather?" he asked in disbelief, "You mean so you can slam more of that junk in your arm?" He shook his head, "No no no, I think this was a blessing in disguise," Tommy turned to Stone, "You caught the end of that bout, what did ya think of Cait's work?"

Stone narrowed her eyes, "Why do you ask?"

"Consider it… professional curiosity. Now, what did you think of the fight?"

"She's talented," she confessed, eyeing the girl.

"Good, you might be able to do me a favor. Here's my predicament: I suddenly got no audience. No audience means I've got no caps comin' in," he turned to Cait, "and if you ain't bringing in caps Little Bird, you ain't an assist. You're a liability; to me and to yourself."

"So, here's what I'm thinking. Let's say I let you take over her contract, she goes with you and watches your back."

Stone crooked an eyebrow at him as he continued, "Look, you'd be doing me a favor while I try to get the place back in order. What do you say?"

"Me? And her? Don't I get a say in all this?"

"That ain't how a contract works. Besides, you really want to stay here? No caps, no audience, no one to talk to but yours truly."

"Jesus, point taken."

"That a girl. So, she's on board. Now what about you?"

"Sure, I could use someone watching my back," Cait stared at Stone in disbelief, and Stone turned her arm ever so slightly so she could see the punctured vein. A whisper of a smile crept on her face as Tommy tossed Stone 106 caps, 'the exterminator's fee.'

The two exchanged more words as Stone pocketed the caps.

"No go, you ain't welcome here Little Bird."

"You're a real sonofabitch Tommy."

"You don't have to tell me."

Cait looked at Stone with a face mixed in wistfulness and anger, "Well, c'mon then. I'm gettin' pretty tired of this shite hole."

The two left the stadium together, Stone staying quiet as they reached her hidden duffle bag. She was unsure of what to say to the Irish girl, but she knew enough to on how to break the ice.

"Well, I've been bumming around the Commonwealth," Cait simply stared at her impatiently, and Stone returned to rummaging around her duffle bag, "It can get pretty damn boring."

"You don't have to tell me, I'm not daft."

Stone found some jet and held it out behind her, shaking the little canister, "So we might as well liven it up." She felt Cait snatch it from her and heard the canister empty, and she turned to see the girl smirking.

"Maybe this won't be so bad then," she tossed the empty canister as Stone threw the duffle bag over her shoulder, marking the Pickman Gallery on her map.

Stone jutted her hand out and Cait looked at her, wrinkling her nose in confusion, "Name's Stone, and you can bet your ass it'll be far from bad." Laughing, Stone started walking to the elusive Gallery.


	4. Pickman

The two didn't talk very much initially but Stone enjoyed Cait's company and they passed the time inhaling jet or popping pills. The fighter's eyes grew wide when Stone recounted her chemistry habits and some trust grew between them after Stone handed Cait a modified combat shotgun so she could better protect herself. Stone's lockpicking skills had earned Cait's respect as well. They had become friends rather fast on those grounds alone.

Stone figured the combat shotgun was a necessity considering they had stumbled across several corpses with a taunting bloodstained letter as they got closer to the gallery. In the back of her mind she wondered how much of a good idea it was to impress the mayor this way. Her face flushed when she thought about it and all reasoning faded away. A few weeks passed before they had actually found the gallery.

It was high noon when they came to Pickman Gallery and they quickly dispatched the nervously chatting raiders outside of the entrance. The overbearing scent of copper made both gag as they stepped through the doorway, but they picked off raiders back to back regardless. The air smelled of death and gun smoke as they nervously poked around the dilapidated house filled with rotting bodies and bloody canvases.

"This is suicide," Cait muttered as they crept through the house.

They spent about two hours clearing out the house and marveling in horror at the artwork. They finally came the final basement room where they saw a group of raiders around who Stone guessed was Pickman. Instinctively, she shot the attackers in the head and Pickman remained eerily calm as he approached and thanked her. Cait stared at her in stunned disbelief, remaining silent as Pickman talked.

After handing her the key, Stone scurried out of the cellar with Cait in tow. Out on the rooftop, Cait glowered at her.

"What the fuck was that all about?" her eyes were glowing coals and Stone shirked away from her.

"It was just instinct and then…I dunno, I froze," she pulled the key out of her pocket and dangled in front of Cait, "At least it wasn't in vain."

Cait huffed at her as Stone climbed down from the roof, "Protectin' people like that is goin' to get us killed, Stone. So what was the point of clearing out that shitehole?"

"It's was a job," Cait furled her brow in disbelief before Stone continued, "which pays about 400 caps. Two hundred are yours for the help."

"Well, why didn't you say so? Who'd you do the job for then?" Cait followed behind as they circled back around to the entrance of the gallery for the reward.

"Mayor Hancock."

When the two had gotten back to Goodneighbor, the sun was low in the sky. Stone's face was gaunt as she and Cait made their way to The Third Rail. As they settled at the bar, she signaled for Whitechapel Charlie and asked for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

The two girls split the bottle, telling tales about the past and getting more boisterous as the bottle emptied. Stone took out some jet and sighed longingly after a deep hit. She looked around for the mayor, grimacing when she didn't see the red frock.

Cait cocked her brow at Stone and smirked knowingly, "Looking for the Hancock?"

Her pale face instantly becoming florid, Stone stammered her response and elicited a laugh from Cait.

"It'll happen eventually. After all, you are his lackey now."

Stone's eyes twinkled, admiring the idea. She popped a mentat in her mouth and handed one to Cait.

"Why don't you go tell him about the Pickman Gallery? Stop playin' around and go find him." Cait brazenly leaned forward pulling Stone's head forward, "After all, I have your back. Go an' get 'em girlie."

~~~This was a rushed chapter…and you can probably tell. I'm trying to get back into the habit of writing, and I'm currently working on another tale since I started a new character profile. That story will be up soon too.~~


End file.
